From the Darkness
by Coma
Summary: A squad of USCM get seperated from their platoon and find themselves fighting off the Alien hords. Follows none of the movie, or game story lines. Please R&R.
1. My Time in Hell

Prologue: My time in Hell  
  
As Private Dwain Hicks walked down the hallway he quickly realized how grim the situation was. He was a United State Colonial Marine. He and a platoon of other men were sent to LV-1218 when communication was lost several months ago. He had no idea why the hell Weyland-Yutan would want to colonize such a shit hole. Every one was dead who lived here, he knew that, so did everyone else sent here, and they knew what killed them too. Every single man in the Corps had heard about what happened on LV-426; damn Xenomorph's killed every single Marine sent there. Here he was on a planet known to be infested with Xenomorph's, and walking down a dark, cold, and musty hallway. Thank god we're outa here tomorrow he thought. He was woken from thought by a blip on his motion tracker. He looked down at it and saw a medium sized blip on the screen; it indicated there was something moving around about five hundred feet down the hall. He griped his M-41A Pulse Rifle tightly and began to walk down the hall. The M-41A Pulse Rifle was the standard issue rifle to all Colonial Marines; it consisted of a Pulse Rifle and a grenade launcher. The Pulse Rifle part of the weapon could accommodate 99 rounds of 10mm explosive caseless armour-piercing rounds. The Pulse Rifle ammunition was housed in a magazine clip allowing easy reloading of the rifle. The grenade launcher consisted of a 30mm launcher capable of holding four grenades.  
  
As the blip moved closer to him, he stopped and rose the Pulse Rifle to his shoulder and turned on the 750-candle power lamped mounted on the left shoulder of his M3 personal body armor. It lit up the entire hall and he could see to the end. The blip on the motion sensor was gone, and there was nothing in the hall that he could see. He took a few more steps forward and heard a clinking noise coming from behind him. The motion tracker wasn't picking anything up, but that was because it only worked in the area it was pointed at. He quickly spun around expecting to see a Xenomorph, what scared him is that he didn't. He didn't see anything at all. "I've got movement in the Lab hallway" he said into the microphone on his helmet. He was at all times linked to the HQ in the hanger. How I wish I was in the hanger, playing cards, drinking he thought. But no. I'm walking in a dark hall at 3 am, boy ain't life grand. "You have a positive ID?" a voice came over the radio.  
  
"No, if there was I would have shot it" Hicks shot back at the man on the other end.  
  
"We need a positive ID"  
  
"Fuck you, you know as well as I do that this place is crawling with Morphs" Hicks responded icily, "So just send a few guys here to help me look around"  
  
"I'll see what I can do," the voice said.  
  
"You do that" Hicks said, then closed the link.  
  
"What the hell am I doing here?" Hicks said aloud as he walked back to the other end of the hall so he could meet up with the back up. He was beginning to get very scared, which was rare for him. He could hear noises coming from the ceiling and the hall behind him. The motion tracker wasn't picking anything up and every time he turned around there was nothing there. I might as well turn the lamp off, don't wanna run the batteries dead he thought. Just as he turned the lamp off the motion tracker lit up like a Christmas tree. There were at least ten to fifteen blips on it. And they were all moving toward him.  
  
As Corporal Michael McPherson walked toward the door leading to the Lab hallway he heard the distinct sound of the M-41A Pulse Rifle firing from inside the hall. He cocked his Pulse Rifle, squatted about seventy- five feet from the door, aimed his rifle at it, and then put a call into HQ. "I have shots fired from Lab hall, over" he said into the microphone.  
  
"Repeat that" a voice said.  
  
"I have shots coming from inside the Lab hall, send more back up" McPherson ordered, then cut the link. He could hear clinking noise caming from somewhere in the hall. Damn it, why didn't I bring a motion tracker he thought angrily. He turned on the shoulder lamp and began to scan the hall when the door to the Lab hall flew open and a man came running out. He had a look of pure horror on his face. His M3 body armor appeared to be melted, as was his helmet. The man was looking back at the door and ran right into McPherson. "Whoa, Hicks" McPherson said as he pushed himself off the ground, "What's going on?"  
  
"We gotta get outa here!" Hicks yelled as he bolted down the hall. McPherson started to jog after Hicks when he heard a hissing sound coming from behind him. He toggled on the lamp and spun around with his rifle at the ready. When he turned around he saw a creature approximately two feet from him. It was about eight feet tall, a jet black color, had spines coming out of it's back, a scorpion like tail, a long dome shaped head, skinny legs, and skinny arms tipped with claws. It had no eyes, and a mouth full of razor sharp teen. Its whole body was coated in a mucus like substance. It began to open its mouth and another small mouth came out of it. McPherson backed up a few steps and fired a burst into the creature's head. The head exploded sending its acidic blood flying everywhere. It struck the walls and floors with a sizzling sound. A few drops struck McPherson's hand causing him to scream out in pain. He quickly turned and ran full speed after Hicks.  
  
He could hear the creatures running after him. He was terrified; he had never been so scared in his life. He was usually not scared of anything, but this was something that would scare the shit out of anyone. As he neared the end of the hall he saw Hicks punching buttons on a panel next to the exit. "It won't open," Hicks said as he turned. He had a look of utter terror on his face.  
  
"What the hell are they?" McPherson asked as he backed up to the door.  
  
"Xenomorph's" Hicks responded as he popped a new clip into his Pulse Rifle.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Aliens" Hicks said looking down at his motion tracker. It had twenty to thirty blips on it. McPherson tried his radio but all he got was static. "Comm. link doesn't work," he said trying to conceal his terror.  
  
"Your Comm. Unit's fucked up" Hicks said. McPherson looked down the hall and didn't see anything. The hall was completely dark except for the light coming from the lamp on his shoulder. The lamp on Hicks shoulder appeared to be melted. McPherson didn't see any thing coming down the hall, and the beeping on the motion tracker had stopped. "Where are they?" McPherson asked tensely.  
  
"Be quiet" Hicks commanded. A light clanking noise could be heard coming from the ceiling above them. Hicks aimed his Pulse Rifle at the ceiling and fired a long burst, complete silence followed. McPherson could hear his heart pounding, and wondered if Hicks could hear it too. Suddenly a thundering crash came from the darkness of the hall in front of them. McPherson shown his lamp on the origin of the sound and saw a vent cover, and he saw his lamps light begin to fade. He looked at the battery and saw it had holes in it, most likely from the acid blood of the Alien he shot. There was nothing he could do but wait. He stood clenching his Pulse Rifle, feeling every muscle in his body tense up and start to cramp. He watched the light fade, and wondered what would happen when it died, then the light went out and there was complete and total darkness. 


	2. Meet the Family

Chapter 1: Meet the Family  
  
Captain John Miller was sitting on an ammo box in the hanger surrounded by other men who were doing the same. They had a game of poker going, and so far he had been losing big. He had never been able to lie to his men, making poker a difficult game to play with them. He looked at the men sitting near him, so young and full of life, most of them never even seen combat he thought to himself. "Captain Miller" some one said. He looked at the men he was playing with, and saw that it was none of them. "Captain Miller" the voice said again. He looked over to the Communications Area and saw Sergeant David Waters motioning for him to come over. "I'll be right back," Miller said as he stood up. He felt stiff; he had been sitting there for just about two hours. "What's up?" Miller asked Waters as he walked up next to him.  
  
"Well sir, I've lost contact with Hicks, and McPherson. They reported movement near the labs before I lost contact" Waters responded grimly.  
  
"Shit…"  
  
"Also McPherson reported hearing shots fired" Waters said to Millers back. He was walking back toward the poker game.  
  
"I need a word with you" Miller said to a large black man sitting off to the side of the poker game reading the manual to one of the new weapons brought along on this mission. The man looked up from the manual and lifted his left eyebrow. "What is it cap?" the he asked.  
  
"Privately" Miller responded looking at the poker game. There were three men sitting in a circle laughing and making lots of noise.  
  
"Alright" the man responded as he stood up. Both men walked to a far corner of the hanger without saying a word to each other. Miller stared at the man for a long moment before saying anything. "How far did your men go into the area around the lab Sergeant?" he asked. His full name was Master Sergeant David Gilmour. He had been in the Corps for a better part of fifteen years, and he had worked himself to the position of head NCO of the company, most of which was still on the Battle Cruiser in orbit. "We finished clearing that area yesterday sir" he responded looking at the Captain oddly. I told him this yesterday, nothing there; there have been no signs of anything through out the entire area they had swept Gilmour thought to himself.  
  
"What about the subterranean levels in the vicinity of the lab?" Miller inquired, then looked back at the men playing poker.  
  
"No" Gilmour said getting the Captains attention back to him, "We didn't have time, I wanted to get the other surface areas clear first, and there have been no signs of life or movement on the surface"  
  
"Shit, that's where they must have come from" Miller mumbled to himself.  
  
"May I ask what is going on sir?" Gilmour asked with a slight attitude. These after all were his men, he ate, slept, and shit with these men, and he had the right to know what was happening with them. "Hicks and McPherson reported movement in the lab hall before Sergeant Waters lost contact with them" Miller said gloomily.  
  
"Shit. You think that something came in through the sub levels?"  
  
"Yes" Miller responded. A loud yell came from the poker game and Millers heart sunk into his stomach. He quickly spun around and saw that Private Alex Frost yelling at the other men. Gilmour saw the look on the Captains face and said "He probably just won it big, its nothing cap" Miller looked back at Gilmour with a pale face which was quickly regaining its color. "We're gonna need to go and find out what happened to Hicks and McPherson" Miller said. Wow, way to state the obvious, but he's young, this is his first mission I should take it easy on him Gilmour thought. "I'll get Frost, Reid, Legrand, Smith, and Upton" Gilmour said.  
  
"Good, meet up at the drop ship in fifteen" Miller said then walked away. Great, don't find a damn thing for two weeks and the day before we leave the Morph's decide to make an appearance Gilmour thought unhappily as he walked over to the poker game.  
  
Gilmour stood for a quick second looking at the three men playing poker. They were all wearing olive drab shirtsleeve shirts, camo pants and their flat black combat boots. "Frost, Reid, Upton get your gear and form up at the drop ship in fifteen" Gilmour ordered. Frost turned his head, looked at Gilmour and said "What the fuck for? I'm winning big"  
  
"Your going home wrapped in an American flag with a boot shoved up your ass" Gilmour shot back.  
  
"I thought you liked in the ass," Corporal Timothy Upton quickly added.  
  
"What you say?"  
  
"I thought you took it in the ass" Upton repeated.  
  
"That's what I thought," Gilmour said as he smacked Upton in the back of the head, "You got fifteen, and where are Legrand and Smith?"  
  
"Smiths sleeping, Legrand's probably beating off," Private Jeremy Reid said as he stood up.  
  
"Make sure they're both ready and at the ship in fifteen, and make sure everyone of you has a fresh battery for your lamp, and a motion tracker" Gilmour said. He took one last look at the men as they walked over to the area of the hanger were their cots were, then walked over to were his equipment was.  
  
As Gilmour pulled his M3 armor over his head he thought about just how big this facility was. It had taken them two weeks to clear the above ground floors, and the hanger was huge. A UD-4L drop ship was on the far left side of the hanger, and there was still enough room in the hanger for all of the men to sleep, and store their equipment. Gilmour gazed at the drop ship; it was such a huge magnificent piece of equipment he thought. The UD-4 drop ship was cargo-carrying vessel is in use by the USCM. The current model used was the UD-4L "Cheyenne" drop ship. The UD-4L had VTOL capability, as well as a close combat gunship role. It had a 103.6 cubic meter payload bay, and a tri-skid undercarriage landing assembly. The principle framework was made from super plastic-formed diffusion-bonded metal matrix composites. The payload bay was 9.5m long by 4.5m wide by 2.4m high, with a 3.92m wide loading ramp, which extended from the back of the bay. The loading ramp could easily accommodate a M577 APC. The spacious pressurized cockpit featured two crew positions, one for the pilot, and the other for the weapons officer. Both crew sat in ejection seats, certified for use at any altitude below 30,000 feet and speeds below Mach 1. The main fuselage of the UD-4L also featured mounting points for the main weapons pods and the secondary weapons bay. The main weapons pods were attached to cross-folded pylons mounted just in front of the ram rocket intake. The UD- 4L ran off of two types of power plants. The main engines were a pair of TF- 900 turbines. High-speed high-altitude flight was handled by the other set of engines, which were aft-mounted TF-220/A-14 ram rockets. The top speed of the ram rockets was upward of Mach 12. The UD-4L could also house a variety of hypervelocity missiles in its folding-wing assembly. Over all a very badass weapon he thought again. He was waken from thought by a voice. "Sarg you all right?" the voice asked. Gilmour turned his attention from the drop ship to a man standing new to him. It was Private Eric Smith. He had all of his combat gear on and was hold an M-41A Pulse Rifle across his chest. "Yeah, I'm fine" Gilmour responded.  
  
"Your sure sir?" Smith asked.  
  
"Yes, I'll be ready in a few minutes" Gilmour responded as he looked back at the equipment scattered on his cot. He heard Smith make a noise and then jog away. Kids green he thought, most of these guys are. Frost was the only one with any real combat experience beside himself. Frost was cocky, full of him self, but he did excellent under fire. Gilmour brought himself out of thought and began to put the rest of his gear on. He picked up a belt with a holster and a pouch for clips on it. The holster contained an M4A4 pistol. The M4A4 was the standard issue pistol for the USCM. It held 12 9mm Tungsten-Core Armor Piercing rounds. He clipped the belt around his waste, dawned his helmet, picked up his Pulse Rifle and jogged over to the drop ship.  
  
As Gilmour jogged toward the rear of the drop ship, which was facing the door that lead into the complex, he saw Captain Miller, Private Frost, Private Reid, Private Legrand, Private Smith, and Corporal Upton standing in a semi-circle chatting. Every man had similar looking body armor on, and where all holding M-41A Pulse Rifles except Private Frost. Frost was an M- 56 Smart Gunner. The M56 Smart Gun was a 10mm automatic squad support weapon. It had a cyclic rate of about 1200rpm, and was constructed mainly from molded carbon fiber and light alloy stampings. The gun was too heavy to be carried like a Pulse Rifle so it was worn. The gun system's mounted onto an operator's harness and slaved to IR tracking system. The M56 was self-aiming, but the operator must control firing. The forward handgrip or the rear-firing handle controlled all firing. A selector at the grip controlled the gun's safety features and rate of fire. The M56 had three fire settings: safe, 4-round burst, or full automatic. Ammunition was stored on a roll of continuous plastic non-disintegrating link belt in the ammunition drum. It was the perfect weapon for Frost, he liked to as he put it "Blow shit up", and the M-56 was very well suited for that task. When Gilmour reached the group he was greeted by another one of Frosts smart-ass remarks. He liked to joke about every thing, most likely as a way to deal with stress, but most of the men did. Gilmour looked over the men once more and saw that Frost had "Born to Kill" stenciled on his helmet and a little happy face stenciled next to the fraise. As he continued his scan of the men he noticed that Upton had a sawed down Remington 870 shotgun slung over his shoulder. The 870 was hundreds of years old, but was still commonly used by the marines. Gilmour then fixed gazes with Captain Miller who nodded and said "Weapons check" The sounds of guns begin loaded and cocked were the only ones heard through out the entire hanger. Miller looked up from his Pulse Rifle and saw the rest of the men in the platoon standing near the mass of cots staring at them with blank faces. Gilmour turned and saw the same sight. "I left Lieutenant Stevens in charge of the rest of the men" Miller said looking back down at his weapon.  
  
"Does he know what's going on?" Gilmour asked.  
  
"I've filled him in on the situation" Miller responded.  
  
"How about the rest of the men?" Gilmour asked motioning to them with his head.  
  
"No" Miller responded bluntly. "No need to cause a panic," Panic Gilmour thought, their goddamn marines. "So we're just gonna go find Hicks and McPherson right?" Private Reid asked.  
  
"That's right, we're gonna find them, then get our asses back here" Miller answered. Miller heard a slight thumping sound, and instantly began to scan the area with his eyes. He saw that the sound was Legrand dropping grenades into an M-92 grenade launcher. The M-92 had a six round drum in the middle of it, which held the larger 38mm grenades, making it much more potent than the grenade launcher on the Pulse Rifles. God I'm jumpy, gotta get a hold of myself he thought. "Lets move it out," he said trying to sound as tough as possible.  
  
"You scared?" Frost asked Legrand.  
  
"No, you?" Legrand answered.  
  
"No"  
  
"Good" Legrand said as he slung the M-92 over his left shoulder.  
  
"Hold me" Frost said as he put his head on Legrand's right shoulder. Legrand pushed Frost's head off his shoulder and said "Daddy's gonna put his foot in your ass if you don't get off him"  
  
"Move your asses" Corporal Upton barked as he walked by the two. Miller was standing next to the door leading into the complex punching buttons on a panel. The door suddenly split apart at the center, half going into the floor, and the other half into the ceiling, reveling a dark hall. Captain Miller disappeared into the darkness of the hall with his Pulse Rifle at the ready, then Private Reid, the rest of the squad followed suit. 


	3. Need a Light?

Chapter 2: Need a Light?  
  
Private McPherson nearly threw up from fear when his lamp died. He sat for several seconds listening to the silence. He had never been so scared in his life. Hicks he suddenly thought, I haven't heard a single sound from him. "Hicks" he whispered.  
  
"What?" Hicks responded.  
  
"Just wanted to make sure you were still there," McPherson responded. He could hear Hicks fumbling around for something, and then there was a bright light in his face. Hicks had lit a flare. He tossed it a few feet in front of them, and it cast and eerie blue light over them and a small portion of the hall. He looked at McPherson and saw the light glistening off the sweat covering his face. McPherson wasn't paying any attention to what Hicks was doing, he was concentrating on listening for sounds of movement in the hall ahead of them, but was having a hard time because the flare made a crackling noise as it burned. He could clearly hear Hicks motion tracker beeping, which scared him because he didn't hear anything moving around in the hall ahead of him. "How many?" he asked.  
  
"My count is ten" Hicks responded. The sound of the aliens moving around was starting to drown out that of the flare. "If we stay here we're dead" he said.  
  
"What do you want to do?" McPherson asked as he gazed down the hall.  
  
"Last I remember the lab door was unlocked, we could try and make it there. The power was still connected too" Hicks didn't wait for a response; he lit another flare and threw it down the hall as far as he could. It landed directly atop of the fallen vent cover. McPherson saw a dark figure quickly scamper into the open vent. Hicks saw it to and fired the 30mm grenade launcher on his Pulse Rifle at the vent opening. The explosion pierced the darkness with blinding light and McPherson could hear the fireball traveling with a deafening roar through the vent system in the ceiling above him. Hicks instantly began running toward the other end of the hall, McPherson following suit.  
  
Hicks disappeared into the darkness of the second hall immediately after he opened the door, and McPherson couldn't hear or see him anymore. McPherson started to jog but suddenly froze. The silhouette of an alien in the darkness directly in front of him caused him to panic and not instantly react as he was trained to do. McPherson stared into the alien's jet-black featureless face until he felt a sudden sharp pain in his stomach, then a warm liquid flowing rapidly down his legs. McPherson reached down and felt a gooey mass of intestine hanging out of a deadly deep gash in his stomach. He felt all the color drain from his face, and his body temperature have an instantaneous drop. In a panic he tried to push the intestines back into his gaping abdomen.  
  
Hicks had just reached the end of the second hall, and started to punch buttons into the panel next to the door. Why had all the doors locked? He thought as he punched the buttons, having no immediate success. "Shit, McPherson do you know if the code was changed?" Hicks asked getting no response. "McPherson?" he repeated as he turned to look down the hall. He didn't see McPherson, and there was no movement on his motion tracker. A loud scream suddenly shattered the silence, and several mussel flashes pierced the darkness of the hallway. "McPherson!!" Hicks screamed out, not even realizing it. When there was no response but the sound of aliens moving around toward the end of the hall, Hicks decided to go and find McPherson. Hicks sprinted down the dark hall with his Pulse Rifle pushed up against his shoulder, ready to fire at anything that moved. The hall was almost completely dark, and all Hicks could make out were slight silhouettes. The sight of something lying on the floor in contorted and unnatural ways directly in front of him brought Hicks to a sudden halt. He quickly realized that it was McPherson's body, and that he wasn't moving, at all. The motion tracker clipped to Hicks belt began to chirp like a thousand birds. Hicks thrust his hand underneath McPherson's M3 body armor, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and felt a warm sticky substance on it. He didn't have time to find out what it was; he instantly began to drag the body back toward the door leading into the lab. Once Hicks reached the end of the hall he removed his hand from McPherson's shirt, and began to frantically push buttons on the panel praying for the door to open. A hissing sound woke Hicks from his trance. He slowly hoisted his Pulse Rifle to his shoulder, braced himself, and turned to face the darkness of the hall. He saw an alien running toward him like it was a four-legged creature; it was using its arms as front legs and was moving with incredible speed. Hicks fired a quick eight round burst at the alien tearing its right arm from its body. The sudden lose of the limb caused the alien to lose balance and slam face first into the cold concrete floor with a dull thud. It slid for several feet on its hideous face before coming to a complete stop. After coming to a halt the alien quickly pushed its self up with its remaining arm and continued to charge using its legs. Hicks fired another burst at the fast approaching alien, this time hitting it with a powerfully tight burst of five rounds. The five 10mm rounds tore into the alien's hard exoskeleton, and then into its soft under tissue, the rounds then came soaring out of its back. The alien plummeted to the floor like a bag of cement, and its acidic blood made a hissing sound as it made contact with the floor beneath the body. Hicks quickly returned his attention to opening the door. After several more unsuccessful tries Hicks rabidly punched the key panel, and the door suddenly shot open. Hicks didn't stick around to count his blessings, he grabbed McPherson's collar, and dragged him into the lab.  
  
The lab was moderately lit, but was an incredible upgrade from the somber hall. Hicks dragged McPherson's body through the door; never bothering to look down at it, then once again commenced pushing buttons on the internal panel. "Goddamn it, just fucking close!" he viciously screamed at the panel as he fumbled with the buttons. His motion tracker showed numbers ranging from twenty five to thirty objects moving toward the door at tremendous speed. Hicks backed slowly away from the panel, readied the grenade launcher on his Pulse Rifle, looked out the open door into darkness, and fired the grenade launcher into the hall. He stood watching the hall, then the sudden explosion and flash of light that ensued the detonation of the grenade. The motion tracker fell mind-numbingly silent. Hicks then walked back over to the panel and kicked it with the full force of his leg. The buttons, and house of the panel shattered and began to shoot sparks from the disheveled heap of electronics. Seconds later the door slid closed and the two halves interlocked with a loud metallic thud. Hicks then turned his attention to McPherson's body, which he had not had a look at since finding it in the hall. What Hicks saw was much worse than he expected, there was a gruesomely mauled body lying on the floor next to the door with a pool of blood under it which was growing increasingly larger by the second. McPherson had a deep gash in his abdomen from which a large mass of bloody intestine hung out. He left hand was permanently held grasping the wound, and trying to hold the intestine in. Hicks nearly threw up from the sight, but upon seeing McPherson's head, he did throw up. McPherson's face was a pale white, covered in lots of blood, barely any white skin could be seen on his face, his eyes where rolled into the back of his head showing only the whites of his eyes, and his mouth was wide open with a noticed amount of blood beginning to be pool inside, because the back of his throat had sealed its self off when he died, then spilling over the edge of his lips and pouring onto his olive drab M3 armor staining it red. The center of his forehead, just below the brim of his bloodstained helmet, was collapsed inward with blood trickling down the sides of his head. The hole in his head did not disclose any glimpses of what was left of his brain, it was dark inside, as if he brain had been torn out. Blood and what was left of McPherson's brain were smeared across the floor from the door to where McPherson's body now lied. It was the most horrible thing Hicks had ever seen, he threw up again, then once more. He walked over to the wall with the broken panel on it, next to the door, and sat down. Hicks started slightly crying, and began having violent dry heaves. He had never been so scared, he had just seen a man who was killed more horribly then he thought it possible for someone to die, and he was now trapped in the lab, which the aliens would eventually force their way into. My only hope is if some one comes looking for me, but my patrol doesn't end for another hour, it might be to late he thought. There was an abrupt slam at the door next to him, causing him to jump a little, and then the door began to be pried open. Hicks looked up and saw several long black fingers burst through the center of the door, and start to force it open. Hicks jumped to his feet and fired a full auto burst into the fingers ripping them to shreds. More fingers shot through seconds later. Holy shit, those things are strong Hicks thought as he looked through the lab for something to hold the door shut. He glanced over at McPherson's mangled body and saw a portable welding torch clipped to his belt, but it was covered in parts of his escaping intestine. The idea of touching the bloody mass of bowl, and other insides utterly revolted Hicks, but he had no choice if he wanted to live. Hicks slowly reached toward the welding torch, then as quickly as possible pushed the intestine off it, causing more of McPherson's entrails to slide from the mortal wound. After removing the welding torch from McPherson's belt Hicks went over to the door, which was pried open enough for him to see the group of aliens outside, stuck the end of his Pulse Rifle out the gap, and fired the Pulse Rifle until the clip was empty. As Hicks removed his Pulse Rifle from the gap he realized the gap was too large to weld shut, he was going to need something to weld over it. He turned and saw a thick metal operating table lying on its side. That will have to do he thought as he pulled the table over to the door, and placed it against the gap. He flicked on the torch causing a thin blue flame to erupt from the end, and began to weld the table over the gap. 


	4. Stalkers

Chapter 3: Stalkers  
  
Private Mason Brock was clutching his Pulse Rifle close to his chest as he sat on an empty ammo box in the dark and musty corridor. It was just like him to pull a shit detail like this one. He always got picked to go and do the things no one else ever wanted to. Over the past three years he had grown an enormous hatred toward the United States Colonial Marines Corps. He was told that it would be an excellent experience; he would travel the goddamn universe, see other planets, and make friends for life. Ha, what load of shit he thought as he silently scanned the hall with his eyes. "I get sent to shit holes like this, and I get to sit on cold ammo boxes in dark goddamn hallways. That's what I got from this 'excellent experience'. Fucking bullshit," he whispered to himself. He didn't want to be here, but who did? It was three thirty in the morning and he got to sit by himself all night, in a dark, cold, and wet hallway. The feeling that he was constantly being watched didn't improve his grim mood either. He had a chill go down his spine the second he stepped foot into this complex. They had searched for two weeks strait, day and night, and hadn't found a single person, or anything that would indicate someone actually lived here. He knew what had gotten them, fucking Xenomorph's. Private Hicks and himself had heavily discussed the possibility of a Xenomorph infestation in the past two weeks. And the sounds of things moving in the darkness, and the feeling that he was being watched seemed to prove that theory correct. He unexpectedly heard his motion tracker begin to make noise; he looked down and saw seven blips moving toward him.  
  
Brock slowly removed himself from the ammo can, and toggled on his shoulder-mounted lamp. The powerful beam of white light cut through the thick blackness and exposed a man in Marine fatigues holding an M-56 Smart Gun, which jerked in the mans hands and pointed at Brock. "Don't shoot" Brock yelled.  
  
"Shit, you dumb fuck I almost fragged your ass," the man with the Smart Gun said. As the man walked closer to Brock, he could see that it was Private Frost, the smart ass. Several other men materialized from the darkness immediately behind him. Brock couldn't see any of their faces but could tell one of them was Corporal Upton by the Remington 870 shotgun he had slung over his shoulder. "Sit. Rep." Someone said, Brock couldn't tell which one of the men had said it. "Um…" Brock mumbled not knowing what to say. "Well son. Speak up" a tall, muscular black man said as he pushed his way to the front of the group. Upon a thorough look at the man, Brock saw it was Master Sergeant Gilmour. He looked very tired, there where bags sagging under his eyes, and he badly needed a shave. Just as Brock was about to speak someone lit a flare, and dropped it on the floor, several seconds later two more flares were lit and placed on the cold concrete floor. The blue light emitted by the three flares lit up the hall, and made more men, that Brock hadn't see before visible. The light cast by the flares hit the men in odd ways making them appear as if they were demons. It looked as if their eyes where completely gone, just black holes in their place. If he didn't already know they were friendly he would have been petrified with fear by their ghastly faces. Brock quickly counted seven men, and instantly became curious to what they were doing in this sector of the complex. He stood for what seemed like an eternity looking over the men, trying to place names with the facial features he could make out in the flickering blue light. There was Captain Miller, Private Reid, Private Legrand, Private Smith, Corporal Upton, Private Frost, and Sergeant Gilmour. "Well sir, there is nothing to report here" Brock finally said as he switched off his shoulder lamp, "Its been almost completely silent here all morning"  
  
"What do you mean almost?" Miller demanded as he took several steps toward Brock.  
  
"Well sir" Brock responded as he nervously fidgeted with his Pulse Rifle, "I've been hearing sounds, like something moving around in the dark"  
  
"Ha. You sound like a little girl" Frost cut in sharply. Just as Frost finished his snide remark a loud scuffling sound echoed from the far end of the hall, opposite that of which squad had come. Ever man in the hall instantly augmented his weapon and pointed it in the direction from which the sound had come. The sound quickly died down and the motion trackers remained stolid. Brock looked over his shoulder and gave Frost a look as if to say, "I told you so". Frost merely shrugged his shoulders and continued gazing down the hall into the blackness.  
  
The men stood unflinchingly with there firearms aimed at the origin of the sound for several minutes before Miller spoke. "Alright, get back into formation" he said, trying to sound like he hadn't lost his nerve. None of the men moved, just stared at him blankly. The thought that the men where not obeying a superior officer enraged Gilmour, "You heard him form up, and move out!" he barked. The men all jumped at the command and did as they were told. Gilmour glanced at Miller and saw that he was looking down at his Pulse Rifle with an expressionless face. He's new; he'll get the hang of it Gilmour thought to himself as walked over to Brock. Brock was staring at the other Marines as they put themselves into a tight formation, as not to let anything get inside their perimeter, when Gilmour taped him on the shoulder, which caused him to flinch. "A little jumpy?" Gilmour asked sympathetically. Gilmour had had Brock under his command for over three years, and had seem the Corps really fuck him over in several ways. He felt some sympathy for the man because he didn't do anything to deserve the shit he'd been put through. "A little sir" Brock answered as he turned to look at Gilmour.  
  
"Don't worry about it we're outa here tomorrow"  
  
"And I'm damn glade about that, sir" Brock responded. After a long pause Gilmour said, "Is there anything else that you heard or saw?"  
  
"Um…no sir, just heard scuffling" Brock said as he repositioned the way he was holding his Pulse Rifle, "And the constant feeling that I'm being watched"  
  
"Well if you see, or hear anything else report it to Sergeant Waters, and make sure he sends you back up" Gilmour said then started to walk way.  
  
"Wait" Brock blurted out as he extended his arm to grab Gilmour's shoulder, "What are you guys doing walking around here?"  
  
"Just a routine patrol" Miller said before Gilmour could speak, "Shale we be off Sergeant?" Gilmour didn't responded to Miller; he gave Brock a slap on the back, and then walked over to where the rest of the squad was. When Miller rejoined the group and they were far enough down the hall so Brock couldn't hear him Gilmour asked, "Why didn't you tell him the truth?"  
  
"I didn't want to scare him," Miller said with authority. The statement infuriated Gilmour to the point that he almost struck Miller. "Sir, may I speak freely?" he asked trying to hold back his rage.  
  
"Go ahead"  
  
"The men are Marines sir" Gilmour said with noticeable anger in his voice, "They can handle the truth. If you don't tell them the truth they wont respect you" Miller looked over at Gilmour with a shocked look on his face, which Gilmour could not see because they were far out of range of the flares blue light. Gilmour only saw Millers silhouette move and knew what he was doing. "I'm in charge hear Sergeant. I realize that I don't have nearly as much experience as you, but this is my platoon, my squad, and I will distribute the information that I feel the men need to know. I don't think they have the need to know about a possible infestation," Miller barked. The rest of the men in the squad were now looking back at Miller and Gilmour, and Gilmour could just imagine the expressions on their faces. He decided against responding to what Miller has said, and continued walking silently through the dark.  
  
"A routine patrol my ass" Brock said aloud as he resumed his position on the ammo can. Officers the apex of shit in the Corps he thought as he stared at the wall opposite him. Miller, that's the biggest joke of them all. The man can't even give goddamn orders to his men. He knew what was going on, they finally found some Xenomorph's and their going to find out how many of them there are. He could feel it in the bottom of his gut that this was going to turn into another "Hadley's Hope" incident, and he didn't want anything to do with the shit the Corps had thrown him into this time. I just got to hold out until tomorrow, just one more goddamn day he thought as a slight smile formed on his face. Brock forced himself from the ammo can once again, picked up one of the still burring flares, and moved it further down the hall. As he dropped the flare to the floor he heard something hit the ground behind him, then a clicking sound that a dog with long nails makes when it walks across a concrete floor. Brock spun around with his rifle at the ready and saw an alien clawing on all fours no more than two feet away from him. Before he could react his was lying on the ground with a sharp pain running up his left leg. He looked down and saw from the knee down was gone. All that was left were torn pieces of bloody tissue, and a born protruding from them. Blood sprayed from the severed limb and painted the floor and near by wall dark red. Brock screamed out in incredible pain as pulled himself over to the wall next to him and put his back against it. He saw the alien still slowly crawling toward him with what almost looked like a smile on it hideous face. Its left front claw has particles of tissue stuck to it, and was dripping in blood. The alien's scorpion like tail was rocking back and forth as is approached Brock at its snails pace. Brock tired to raise his Pulse Rifle to fire at the monster but found that it was no longer in his position. He saw it lying on the floor four feet away with the missing part of his leg lying next to it, pouring blood onto the weapon and floor. Brock started to feel tired, and weak, an artery in his leg had been severed and he was losing blood very quickly. A large pool of blood was forming underneath him and soaking his clothes. His hands fumbled around almost blindly as the alien continued its silent advance. Brock finally felt what he was looking for; he unbuttoned the top of his holster and removed the M4A3 pistol from it. He cocked the pistol slowly; he was becoming very weak from the massive blood loss, and then aimed it, best head could despite his trembling hands, at the alien who was now only three feet away. The alien opened its mouth revealing a set of razor sharp teeth, and another smaller mouth, which slowly slid out. What looked like mucus was dripping from its mouth and splashing into the pool of blood, which was slowly conquering the concrete floor. Brock stared at the creature for several seconds before pulling the trigger, once, twice, and then a third time. The 9mm tungsten-core armor piercing rounds ripped into the aliens dome and shattered it. The head literally popped sending shreds of skin and acidic blood soaring through out the hall. The head less body slumped to the floor, and acid poured out of the neck merging with Brocks blood making a sickening bubbling sound. A glob of acid struck Brock in left check, and instantly burnt his skin. The skin melted and dripped off his face onto his blood soaked pant leg. Brock let out of bloodcurdling scream as the skin melted off his face reviling his jawbone, which the acid began to eat through also. He couldn't take the combined pain from his severed leg, and melting face. Brock slowly rose his pistol and pushed it against his temple. I'm so tired, sleep, eternal sleep he thought, then pulled the trigger. 


	5. A Life Less Ordinary

Chapter 5: A Life Less Ordinary  
  
The deafening silence was beginning to grind Private Eric Smith's nerves. He hadn't heard a thing, and he knew if something came, it would come from the darkness. The hostility he felt growing between the squad wasn't making his first combat mission all that more pleasant, either. When he enlisted he thought he would be assigned to a base on earth, his father after all was the President. Instead he got this. He didn't feel a warm welcome by his fellow Marines either. The only one in the group of seven men walking down the long dark corridor who treated him nicely was Private Reid, and this was his first combat mission too. It seemed that the "greenies" stuck together, while the more experienced men stuck to their groups. He never pictured the Corps being like this, but he wasn't the only one to get fucked over by the system, he knew for a fact that Private Mason had been put through so much more shit, and this was his eighth combat mission. "YO, SARG!!!!" someone hollered waking Smith from his daze. "WHAT?" Gilmour yelled back to the man Smith couldn't see. "Light at the end of the hall" the voice responded. It was Private Frost, Smith could tell by his voice. "What kind of light?" Miller interrupted.  
  
"The bright kind" Frost answered rudely, then mumbled "Fucking idiot"  
  
"What was that?" Miller ordered commandingly, "You have something to say, say it to my face"  
  
"Well sir" Frost said mockingly, "I called you a fucking idiot" All of the men except Miller let out laughs, which ricocheted down the hall, and back. "That's it you little punk!" Miller boomed over the laughter, "When we get back I'm having you arrested, and court marshaled"  
  
"Heh, all right…sir" Frost countered, brushing the comment off as nothing more than a threat.  
  
"I'm serous soldier!" Miller yelled while he pushed his way through the group and got in his Frost's face.  
  
"I'm sure you are" Frost said as he turned and started to walk away. Before he was a single stride away, Miller grabbed him by the collar of his body armor and tried to pull him backward. He was miserably unsuccessful, Frosts incredible strength was too much for him to hold onto, and he fell face first onto the hard concrete floor. Several seconds after hitting the floor he tried to push himself up, but slipped on an unseen substance. All of the men walked past him while he wallowed on the ground until Corporal Upton. He reached down and tried to help Miller up, until he too slipped, hitting the floor hard. After stabilizing his position, Miller flipped on his should mounted lamp, and saw the floor was covered in thick dark red blood. "Its…blood…" Upton said calmly as he looked at the gory scene. Miller tired to remain calm, but couldn't he was drenched in blood from his waste down. He let out a childish yell, which no one paid much attention to until Gilmour turned around and saw the men sitting in the pool of blood. "Hold up!" He ordered the other men as he walked to Miller. Once he got there Miller looked up at him with tears in his eyes and said, "Its blood"  
  
"Yes sir, I can see that" Gilmour responded, deliberately not sounding sympathetic.  
  
"Umm…Sir, Sir's, you better come take a look at this" Private Reid erupted over the comm. link.  
  
"What is it?" Gilmour asked as he pulled Miller from the puddle of blood.  
  
"You better just come take a look at this" Reid said, and then closed the link.  
  
When Gilmour, Upton, and Miller reached the end of the hall, they found the rest of the squad sanding out side the lab. The door was gone, as were parts of the wall were it would usually be. Light was bursting out into the dark hall illuminating burn marks in the floor. Gilmour took a step into the lab, and was greeted by a surreal picture. The floor beneath his feet was covered in blood, which lead off in a trail to the far left corner of the lab, which had blood splattered across the walls. A few feet in front of him a solitary M41A Pulse Rifle was broken into several pieces. Directly behind it four of the metal operating tables where knocked over, and had blood sprayed across their shiny finish. A wooden desk in the right corner on the wall next to him had a Marine issue helmet lying on it. Gilmour turned his head and motioned for Upton. "Sir?" Upton asked after he reached Gilmour.  
  
"Clear the room"  
  
"Yes sir" Upton said then turned and walked away. Upton was a loyal soldier, a veteran of many combat missions', and respected his higher ups. Gilmour didn't wait for the men to clear the room before he walked to the desk. The helmet was lying on the blood-covered desktop, and had a single cigarette lying next to it. There was a welding torch lying on the floor next to the overturned chair. Gilmour picked up the helmet and looked it over, on the inside sweet bang he saw "Hicks" written in black marker. The sound of the men entering the room washed into his thoughts and caused him to look over his shoulder. He saw Frost enter first, braced, and ready to fire his Smart Gun. Private Legrand entered directly behind Frost and had his M-92 grenade launcher pointed over Frost's left shoulder. They always worked together like that. They've been best friends, like brothers for as long as I can remember Gilmour thought as he watched Smith enter the room with his back touching Legrand's, and pointing his Pulse Rifle at the ceiling, then quickly around the room in front of him. He watched the rest of the men do the same then spread out, and begin to search the room, before he returned his attention to the helmet in his hand. It was defiantly Hicks', not only did it have his name on the inside, but it had a sticker from a popular band he liked on it. After placing the helmet back on the table he walked over to Miller and asked to have a word with him. Once they were far enough away from the men so they could not be heard he said, "Sir, I found Hicks' helmet, and that is most likely his gun on the floor over there, I have a bad feeling, a very bad feeling about what might have happened to him. I mean, just look at this place, its covered in fresh blood"  
  
"Well…" Miller began, but was cut short by a voice erupting over the radio. "Sir!!!" the voice yelled, muffled by static.  
  
"Yes?" Miller asked into the microphone mounted on his helmet.  
  
"I've lost contact with Private Brock sir…and I sent out a patrol, and I've lost contact with them too"  
  
"Sergeant I didn't give you permission to send out men" Miller said trying to sound calm.  
  
"Sir, Sergeant Waters is dead, this is Lieutenant Stevens," the Stevens said loudly trying to overpower the static.  
  
"Switch to a different channel, now!" Gilmour ordered into his microphone. Miller looked over and saw all of the men looking at him from about the room. Hw could feel the solidity of suspense, and worry pushing down on him, he never knew what was going to happen next, and he was sure the rest of the men felt the same. "How did he die?" Miller finally asked.  
  
"Well, after he lost contact with Brock he went looking for him. The patrol I sent out found his body, then I lost contact with them too," Stevens responded.  
  
After hearing the message of Waters demise explode over the radio Frost and Legrand exchanged quick glances from across the room and continued searching. Frost was so wrapped up in thought he didn't even realize Reid had walked up next to him, until he spoke, "You think the same thing happened to Hicks and McPherson?" Frost looked over at the young man, and didn't know what to say. He knew that Hicks and McPherson were dead; there was no way they could have survived. He began to stutter and mumble as he thought of something to say, when Legrand walked over and said "No, Hicks is tough, and McPherson's smart, their probably still alive"  
  
"You think they went back to the hanger?" Reid asked.  
  
"It would be suicide to go out there without a weapon," Smith said as he maneuvered himself around the group and continued walking.  
  
"Maybe he wanted to get into nirvana" Frost responded jokingly, trying to break the tension. Legrand let out a small laugh, but Reid remained deadly serous. He didn't understand how they could joke about something like that. From what Reid had seen Frost was always joking at the wrong time, the more experienced men found him funny, but he didn't. He simply stood staring at the two men with a blank face as he thought about what might have really happened to Hicks and McPherson. The staring match remained persistent until Smith saying something abruptly ended it. The comment didn't register with Frost, but Legrand heard him say, "What the fuck…" Legrand jerked his head to the side and saw Smith standing in the far left corner of the room, where the most blood was, looking up at the ceiling, and pointing his rifle at it. "What the hell is he doing?" Frost asked. Legrand's eyes shot over and saw Frost was looking at Smith's odd actions too. "I don't know should we go find out my good man?" Legrand asked with a smirk on his face.  
  
"Well's masa I's don't knows if is safe…" Frost began when both he and Legrand saw a large droplet of blood fall from the ceiling and hit Smith in the chest, splattering blood up onto his face. Neither of the two men thought, only reacted. Legrand instantly unslung the M-92 grenade launcher from his shoulder and rushed over to Smith, Frost on his heels. Once he reached Smith he pushed the butt of the M-92 into the pit of his arm, and wrenched it toward the ceiling where Smith had his weapon pointed. What he saw startled him. There was a hole torn in the metal ceiling, showing only blackness above. Thick black blood was dripping from the hole. Tattered pieces of Marine issue clothing, and skin where stuck to the jagged edges, along with a bulky strand of intestine dangling from it.  
  
"What do you want to do now?" Gilmour asked Miller as he shifted his weight to his left leg.  
  
"Well, from the looks of this place I'd say" Miller started until Gilmour cut him off.  
  
"Sir, I don't think their dead," He said rudely. He knew that Miller would say something like that, that there was no hope and they were lost, no reason going on. The idea caused a wave of anger to rush through his body. "I don't know about that sir," someone said. Gilmour couldn't see whom, until he turned around. Upton was standing no more than two feet away from him, cradling his Pulse Rifle in his arms like it was a newborn baby, his black eyes staring a hole through Gilmour.  
  
"Why's that?" Miller asked, obviously interested.  
  
"Well…sir, there's…well we found something" Upton said jerking his head toward the far left corner of the room. Miller looked over and saw Smith and Legrand pointing their weapons at the roof, and something hanging down from the roof, like a rope. "A rope doesn't interest me" Miller shot back.  
  
"That's not rope sir" Upton said, and paused before finishing, "It's a piece of intestine"  
  
"Its what!" Gilmour asked shocked at what he had heard.  
  
"It's a piece of human intestine, and there is blood dripping from a hole in the ceiling" Upton answered. Gilmour didn't respond, he picked his rifle from the desk, and began walking in the direction of the corner. He had to push Reid and Frost out of the way to get directly underneath the hole. As he instructed Legrand to stand down a quick, and violent human scream could be heard echoing from inside the hole. All of the Marines raised their weapons and pointed them at the hole. "Frag it?" Legrand asked almost instantly after the scream died down.  
  
"No, I want to see what's up there" Miller said. Frost looked over at Miller gave him a nasty look then asked, "Don't you mean your going to send one of us up there?"  
  
"Yes" Miller responded, not realizing he had just been insulted.  
  
"Who do you want me to send?" Upton asked obediently. Miller looked over at all of them men standing with their weapons pointed at the hole. It was a hard decision to make; he knew very well that the man he sent might be killed. He began staring at Reid, who quickly noticed, and began to feel sick to his stomach. "I'll go" someone finally said, making the feeling in Reid's stomach instantly disappear. "Who said that?" Miller asked.  
  
"I did" Smith said as he made his way to Miller, "I'd like to go"  
  
"Very well" Miller answered, "Someone give him a boost" All of the men looked at Miller then Upton stepped forward, and got down on all fours underneath the hole. Smith walked over stepped up on Upton's back, then pulled himself into to the hole.  
  
As Smith pulled his legs into the hole he turned on his shoulder lamp, which illuminated a body directly in front of him. The sight horrified Smith and caused him to slam his head on the vent roof above him. The bodies face was pale and covered in dry blood, and had a hole in its forehead. The body had a Marine issue helmet, and body armor on. The face was so covered in blood he couldn't tell if it was Hicks or McPherson. As disgusted as he was Smith grabbed the body by the collar, and began pulling him toward the hole. Once he reached it, he pushed the body out of the hole then stuck his head out, while having a difficult time keeping grip because of the high amount of blood on the vent floor. The body hit the floor with a soggy thud that made Smith sick to his stomach, and almost made him vomit. He looked at the body, and the gaping gash in its abdomen until someone yelled, "Its McPherson!" Then he saw Upton run over to the body, and kneel down beside it. Miller came over too, looked at the body, then up at Smith. "Is there anything else up there?" he asked.  
  
"I don't know, the vent goes on for a few hundred feet before dropping off" Smith responded nervously. He had a feeling that he was going to have to search the rest of the vent.  
  
"Go check it out" Miller ordered, and then returned his attention to McPherson's body. Smith looked at the top of Millers helmet for several seconds before spinning himself around, and unclipping the motion tracker from his belt. He crawled forward holding his Pulse Rifle up as best he could with one hand, and held the motion tracker in the other. His helmet kept scraping against the roof of the vent making a metallic scratching sound boom down the hall. Smith decided he didn't want to openly announce his position, removed his helmet, took out an olive drab fatigue hat, and pushed it on his sweat-covered head. After securing the helmet to his belt he continued forward, hoping that by volunteering for this the other men would stop thinking that he got, and acted special because his father was the President. His hopes were quickly smashed when he heard a sound shot up from his motion tracker. He looked down at the LCD screen and saw a green blip moving toward him at an incredible speed. 


End file.
